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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27621025">The Missing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmtcltb/pseuds/tmtcltb'>tmtcltb</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Last Ship (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:14:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,862</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27621025</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmtcltb/pseuds/tmtcltb</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one-shots about the search for family and friends by various individuals from The Last Ship. Each chapter is independent, and may not be canon compliant.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N - this will be a series of one-shots about the search for family and friends by various individuals from The Last Ship. Each chapter is independent, so the dead may come to life. :) Upcoming one-shots include Carlton Burk, Sasha Cooper, and Gator. If you have a request or idea, let me know. I can't promise to write it but you never know until you ask!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Character: Michael O'Connor</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Setting: California - between seasons 2 and 3</em>
</p>
<p>x</p>
<p>Michael Jonathon O'Connor held his breath as the Humvee slowed, Lieutenant Green maneuvering to avoid another obstacle blocking the road. He stared out at the freeway he had travelled a million times, one that was now barely recognizable, his hands gripping the bottom of the seat. Since making port in Long Beach twenty-eight hours before, there had been no time to think about how close he was to his home. First there was the rush of securing the perimeter and attending to the crowd that had gathered, looking for the cure, growing larger rather than smaller as word spread of their arrival. Then there was the actual matter of refueling the Nathan James, a process made automatically ten times more challenging because the berths were full of cruise ships that came in for supplies - and never left. Nobody wanted to be the one to have to clear those so, instead of trying to move one of the ships, Commander Garnett had created a daisy-chain of hoses from the fuel depo to the Nathan James.</p>
<p>As a result, MJ had been busy right up until the moment when Lieutenant Burk arrived. "O'Connor! You want a ride to LA or not?"</p>
<p>Before turning the fuel line over to Lieutenant Mir, MJ glanced at Commander Garnett for confirmation. She smiled at him, not the old smile that would light up her face, but a kind one nonetheless. "Go on O'Connor. I hope that you find them."</p>
<p>As he climbed into the Humvee with the TAC team and dog, MJ felt like he was already there. He could almost see his childhood home. The apartment where his dad said they were going to be in that text message MJ received as the Nathan James approached the East Coast, no clue of when it was sent. Their plan was to box themselves into the neighborhood, nobody in or out, not trusting <em>some damn government run safe zone</em>. An exact quote. Paul O'Connor might be a proud Marine who served his country in Vietnam, but he was also a skeptic and a bit of a conspiracy buff.</p>
<p>In other words, Paul was most likely one of those six million subscribers to the Valkyrie Network.</p>
<p>Since the team left the port, however, nothing had gone to plan. The last two hours had included delay after delay as they literally <em>crawled </em>the twenty miles from Long Beach to Watts, twice turning around when the congestion became impassable and once driving over the top of a mini after Green lost patience with Burk's attempts to guide them through a lock jam. Not that MJ blamed Green. Burk was damn good at boarding other ships, but he clearly knew nothing about LA traffic.</p>
<p>Nobody mentioned what might have caused thousands of people to simply abandon their cars on the freeway.</p>
<p>Now, only streets away from his destination, MJ was biting so hard on his cheek that he tasted blood. Around them scorched buildings had given way to giant red crosses, not a single sign of life. Halsey laid his head in MJ's lap and he absently stroked the dog's head, wondering if even an animal could tell how bad this was looking.</p>
<p>The Humvee stopped. Green turned around, his eyes landing on MJ. "The rubble is pretty bad. Are we close enough to walk?"</p>
<p>"Yes, sir." MJ managed to croak out the words.</p>
<p>"Everyone out!" Green ordered, and they flooded out of the Humvee like a clown car. "Don't leave anything behind, just in case."</p>
<p>Erik Miller was the first to speak, glancing at the ghost-town that surrounded them. "What happens if someone steals the Humvee?"</p>
<p>"Then I'll find us another ride," Green replied absently.</p>
<p>"You can hotwire a car?" Rick sounded shocked, leading to a round of laughter.</p>
<p>Green smirked, glancing at MJ. "Doubt that I'm the only one. Right O'Connor?"</p>
<p>"If I can keep the James' engine running, pretty sure I can get a car going." MJ replied with a nod, although he had to wonder whether Green was aware that the skill was not acquired during engineering training but rather during an ill-advised night out with his cousins when he was fourteen. One that had resulted in his father not just threatening but <em>actually</em> sending him to military school. Although, scratch that. Green and Benz were tight. Green probably knew better than anyone else here what it was like growing up in Los Angeles.</p>
<p>They made it three blocks before he felt it. <em>The eyes</em>. There were people watching them from the buildings and MJ couldn't decide if that was a good thing or bad. On the one side, people were alive. On the other, this could be another Baltimore. He could tell from the way that the team adjusted their weapons, spreading further apart, that he wasn't the only one to notice. Yet nobody spoke. Continuing down the street as though out for a pleasure stroll. Not a single suggestion that they back out, drop off some supplies with the cure, as MJ knew was the official protocol when ingress was deemed too risky.</p>
<p>MJ felt sweat dripping down his neck. The only reason that they were there was because of him. He hoped to hell that he hadn't brought them all here to die.</p>
<p>A door creaked open at the end of the street, the sound deafening in the silence, and the team's response was immediate. Fanning across the street, taking defensible positions. All except Green and MJ. Green because he was team leader and MJ because this was his turf.</p>
<p>A man stepped out, M4 in hand, eyes fixed on MJ. "Mikey, that you?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, Mr. Williams, it's me." MJ moved forward, feeling tears rise at the sight of the man who had run the corner grocery store for as long as he could remember. "Looking for my dad and brothers. You hear from them?"</p>
<p>"Paul is going to be so happy to see you!" Mr. Williams beamed at MJ, weapon dropping to his side. "He's been talking about nothing else since news came through about the Nathan James bringing home the cure. How his son was chosen for such an important mission. Come on, I'll take you to them. Those your guys?"</p>
<p>MJ nodded, reeling from the news. <em>His father was alive!</em> "Yes, sir. We're all from the James."</p>
<p>"That mean you got the cure with you?"</p>
<p>"Yes, sir." Green was the one to respond this time. "I have the shots right here. Once you take one, you're contagious. You spread the cure just by breathing."</p>
<p>Mr. Williams glanced at MJ. "He for real?"</p>
<p>"Yes sir," MJ responded again, grinning at the wonder on Mr. Williams's face.</p>
<p>"Okay then, give me one here." Mr. Williams responded. Before turning to yell down the street. "And the rest of you get down here and say hello to Mikey!"</p>
<p>As doors began opening, MJ found himself blinking away tears. Mr. Thompson from down the street appeared with his oldest son. Deandre and Darren, brothers a couple years behind him in elementary school, come out a doorway near Wolf. A few faces that were unfamiliar and then... "Nate!"</p>
<p>Meeting halfway down the street, he yanked his brother in for a hug. Tears flowing down both their faces. After a moment, Nate stepped back, grin splitting his face. "Knew you were too tough to kill."</p>
<p>"You too, man." MJ grinned back. "Ronnie?"</p>
<p>The smile on Nate's face slipped. "His ship didn't make it back. But, hey, you made it back from the Arctic. Ronnie could still be out there."</p>
<p>MJ found his own smile fading as he calculated the odds of another Navy ship still being out there. They weren't good. He changed the subject. "We got the cure with us. Come on. I'll get you a shot."</p>
<p>Ten shots later, they were moving again. Nate filling MJ in on what had happened over the past year. The government collapsing. The gangs fighting over territory. Some guy named Castillo from San Diego trying to horn his way into LA.</p>
<p>"We took care of Castillo, for sure." Darren threw in. "Damn asshole thought he could just roll on in. So we blew up the road. Should've seen them trying to get through."</p>
<p>The group began to recount the problems that they caused for the advancing guard, which explained impassable roads. They were almost to MJ's street when he heard Miller loudly whisper to Burk. "Why are they all staring at me?"</p>
<p>MJ could see Green was rolling his eyes, but Burk's voice was completely neutral when he replied. "Because you're white."</p>
<p>"There are no white people here?" Miller asked, again the whisper not as quiet as he must have thought.</p>
<p>Ravit reached over to hit him in the back of the head. "Damn farm boy."</p>
<p>Catching the way that a Deandre and a couple of the guys fell back, deliberately shadowing Miller the way they would with rich teenagers who came here looking for drugs, MJ turned, scowling. "When was the last time any of you took back a destroyer and routed a group of insurgents with hammers and a crowbar? Because until you do that, you show Miller there some respect."</p>
<p>That got Miller a few considering looks. He ducked, blushing. "I just helped. O'Connor climbed the damn anchor chain and scaled the nose of the ship. Eighty feet from the water to get back on board. With helos circling."</p>
<p>Now the eyes swung back to MJ. Mr. Williams whistled. "Sounds like you have some pretty good stories to tell, Mikey. And I know someone who wants to hear every one."</p>
<p>Looking in the direction that Mr. Williams was pointing, MJ felt something in his chest give way. There, only thirty steps away, stood Paul O'Connor.</p>
<p>
  <em>His father.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Sasha Cooper</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Character: Sasha Cooper</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Setting: St. Louis - six weeks after Season 3</em>
</p>
<p>x</p>
<p>x</p>
<p>Sasha Cooper picked up the thick sheaf of papers from her desk, skimming through the official list of survivors as she drank her morning cup of coffee. She glanced up when the door opened to admit Kara Green. Due to the destruction of the White House, room was limited and the two women had been assigned a combined office space during the renovations. Despite Sasha's initial reservations, the arrangement worked well, as their work style was similar and many of their projects overlapped. She smiled. "Good morning."</p>
<p>"Morning." Kara did not smile back as she trudged to the coffee maker.</p>
<p>Kara looked tired. <em>Very tired</em>. All-nighter kind of tired. Sasha took another sip of her coffee. "You look wiped. Did something come in last night after I left?"</p>
<p>In the middle of pouring a cup of coffee, Kara jumped, her face twisting uncomfortably and Sasha found her thoughts going immediately to Tom. Had something happened? Something, perhaps, that the tight-knit - <em>and tight lipped</em> - crew of the Nathan James had not seen fit to tell Sasha? Because no matter how friendly Sasha might have become with Kara and Danny and Mike and Alisha, she had no illusions about where she stood in the pecking order and, while that stung a bit, she had to respect their loyalty to their former Captain.</p>
<p>"No, nothing for work." Kara stopped, fiddling with her cup, and Sasha waited patiently. "You know how Val's from Napa?"</p>
<p>Sasha blinked. "Actually I didn't know that."</p>
<p>"Well she is." Kara drank half of her cup and refilled it before continuing. "Anyway, her parents' memorial service was last week so Val and Alisha drove out for it. While they were there, they liberated several nice bottles from the wine cellar. They dropped by last night with a couple and, since we don't keep alcohol in the house, it was either drink it or dump it."</p>
<p>Sasha chuckled. Was this Kara's roundabout way of saying that she was hungover? "And who dumps good wine, right?"</p>
<p>"Especially when every bottle cost at least a hundred a pop." Kara gave her a genuine smile for the first time that morning and Sasha wondered why alcohol was such a tense subject for the other woman. Sasha could remember seeing Danny drinking a beer here and there, no indication that he struggled with alcohol dependence. Did Kara have a problem? Sasha made a mental note to ask Mike about it later, in order to avoid any kind of <em>faux pas</em>. "Val might claim that her parents were tyrants but they did have good taste. Unfortunately, Frankie woke up at four thirty so I only got about two hours of sleep."</p>
<p>Sasha picked up her coffee, returning to skimming the pages before her. "Why didn't Green get up with him? Isn't he off this week?"</p>
<p>Kara snorted, moving towards her own desk. "Danny can sleep through anything. It's beyond annoying. One time in college there was a fire drill and ..."</p>
<p>But Sasha was no longer listening to Kara, her entire attention on the page before her. <em>Paige Cooper</em>. Sasha began frantically flipping through the stack, looking for any other name that she recognized. Any other Cooper.</p>
<p>
  <em>They had to be here.</em>
</p>
<p>"Sasha! Are you okay?" Suddenly Kara was in front of her and Sasha realized that she had no idea what they had been talking about. She looked up, her mind a fog, unable to formulate any kind of coherent response. Fortunately, Kara seemed to have grasped the basics. "That's the survivor list. Who did you find?"</p>
<p>"There's a Paige Cooper listed. That was my sister-in-law, well, that was her name. Cooper's not an unusual name so..." Sasha trailed off.</p>
<p>Kara picked up the paper, locating the name with her finger. She began dialing her cell phone as she spoke. "Your husband's sister or sister-in-law?"</p>
<p>"Sister-in-law," Sasha replied mechanically. If only Paige was listed, did that mean Robert was dead? What about Jayden and Emmie? "Her husband was Robert. My husband's brother. They had two children. Nobody else is listed here."</p>
<p>But Kara was already speaking to the person on the other end of the line, not paying attention to Sasha. "Yeah, it's me. I need you to run a name. So I'll owe you one. Sure, Danny would love to...Yeah, well, that's the thing about being married. Fine. Fine. Anyway, woman is Paige Cooper. That's her married name. Husband was Robert. From the DC area," Kara looked to Sasha for confirmation, and she managed to nod. "She's listed as being here in St. Louis now. Okay, let me know as soon as you get an address."</p>
<p>Sasha took a deep breath, trying to ground herself. "Who was that?"</p>
<p>"Jacob Barnes."</p>
<p>For the third - or maybe fourth - time that morning, Sasha found herself surprised by the other woman. "The reporter? The one who broke the Michener story? The one who is always hanging around asking you on dates as a completely transparent means of getting insider information?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, that's the one. He has some uses," Kara replied, something that Sasha could recall saying a dozen times over the years. Apparently Mrs. Green had more layers than Sasha realized. Unlocking a drawer and pulling out her pistol, Kara looked at Sasha. "What are you waiting for?"</p>
<p>"Don't we need to..." Before Sasha could finish, Kara's phone beeped.</p>
<p>"I have the address right here," Kara replied, holding up the device. "And we both know that you aren't going to get any work done until you check. So, let's go."</p>
<p>Thirty minutes later, Sasha paused before the door of the address that Jacob Barnes had provided, hand raised to knock. Taking a deep breath, she brought her hand down, knowing that this was the moment. She glanced at Kara, who nodded, providing what support she could, both women aware that no amount of positivity would change what was about to happen. Kara had offered to wait in the car but Sasha found that she didn't want to be alone. She might have single-handedly undermined Peng at ever turn but this, finding out whether any of Nicholas's family - <em>of her family</em> - had survived, this was an entirely different type of mission.</p>
<p>The minute before the door opened was one of the longest ones of Sasha's life.</p>
<p>Paige Cooper, a petite brunette wearing a worn green sweater and ripped jeans, opened the door with a scowl. "If you woke up..." She stopped, mouth falling open. "Sasha?"</p>
<p>"Paige!" Tears dripped down Sasha's face as she hugged Paige tightly, the joy and relief overwhelming.</p>
<p>Paige was the first to pull back, her own face covered in tears. "Is Nicholas with you?"</p>
<p>And, just like that, Sasha was back in reality. <em>Nicholas</em>. Her husband of less than a year. The man she imagined spending the remainder of her life with, raising children with, retiring with. Gone before she even had a chance to adjust to being a wife.</p>
<p>"No. He's..." Sasha stopped, remembering that they were standing in the middle of a hallway.</p>
<p>"Please come in." Paige must have had the same realization. She glanced at Kara, then did a double take. "I recognize you, I just don't remember from where."</p>
<p>Sasha started to jump in. As the spouse of one of the missing sailors in Thailand, Kara's picture had been plastered all over the news for weeks, but Kara spoke first. "I've seen you at the daycare. I'm Kara, by the way, I work with Sasha."</p>
<p><em>Daycare? Did that mean?</em> "Jayden and Emmie?"</p>
<p>Paige's face fell, and Sasha knew before the other woman spoke that the news would not be good. "Just Emmie. She's asleep right now. Come on in. I'll make coffee."</p>
<p>Kara glanced at Sasha, who gestured for her to join them. Both women followed Paige into the small room. The small apartment was a far cry from the split ranch that Paige and Robert owned in Northern Virginia, but it was cheerfully decorated with colorful afghans and toys piled on almost every surface. Toys designed for a two-year-old rather than a would-be six-year-old, Sasha noted with a pang of sadness. Paige retreated to the utility kitchen, switching on the pot and gathering cups. Finally she settled on the couch, Paige and Sasha looking at each other, neither of them apparently knowing where to start.</p>
<p>Sasha broke the silence. "What happened?" Paige's eyes darted to Kara and Sasha felt a ghost of a smile pass her face. "Kara has clearance. We work together."</p>
<p>"Robert and I were both CIA. Analysts, not field agents," Paige offered, clearly for Kara's benefit. Kara nodded, silently focusing on her coffee, letting the other two women have their reunion, as it were. Paige fiddled with her cup, eyes becoming unfocused as she began talking. "It all happened so fast. You were gone, Sasha, and Nicholas was at the hospital. He warned us to be careful but Robert and I thought that Langley was safe. Everyone was being screened and there were so many protocols. That was actually our backup plan. We thought that if things got really bad, we would all hole up there. I was working half-days from home at that point, so Robert took Jayden with him when he left that morning. I was still sleeping, didn't even give them a goodbye kiss."</p>
<p>Paige's voice cracked and she paused, but nobody spoke, allowing her to tell the story at her own pace. "Some bigwig bypassed the screeners, claiming that he couldn't wait. He infected the entire building. At first we thought that the daycare might be spared because it had a separate air-flow system but it wasn't. The last text I received from my husband was to tell me that our little boy was gone."</p>
<p>Sasha reached across the small space to place her hand on Paige's knee. Wishing that she could do more, wanting so badly to help, but knowing that nothing would take away this pain. She waited a few minutes for Paige to collect herself. "You and Emmie?"</p>
<p>"A few days later I was contacted by my supervisor and offered a spot at a safe zone in rural Pennsylvania. I said no. After what happened at Langley, I didn't trust any of them. But he persisted. Let me drive my own car. Provided me with enough gas to do the trip without making contact. Gave me biohazard suits. I finally gave in. That's where we were when the cure arrived. We stayed until President Michener made contact, and then we moved here to set up a new office." Paige nodded to Kara. "Hence using the same daycare."</p>
<p>Sasha was stunned to realize that Paige and Emmie must have been here in St. Louis for months without her knowing. No wonder so many people complained about the official survival lists. How accurate could they be if it took them months to include a woman who was drawing a government paycheck? And even then managed to exclude her surviving child?</p>
<p>Kara finally spoke. "You must have been with Agent Robinson. Your group has been a lifesaver, getting various networks up and running. I'm so sorry about your husband and son."</p>
<p>"Thank you." Again silence fell as the women sipped their coffees. Finally Paige looked up. "You were going to tell me about Nicholas?"</p>
<p><em>Nicholas</em>. Already Sasha found it difficult to picture his face, his laugh, his scent. The memories feeling almost dream-like. Their time together had been so short, made even shorter by the demands of their jobs. It was one of the things that drew them together, his dedication to the hospital and Sasha's to the Navy. But, in retrospect, Sasha wished that she had spent more time at home while there was still the opportunity to do so. That, she supposed, that was how loss worked. <em>You always wished that you had done things differently</em>.</p>
<p>"That mission I was on when the virus started?" Sasha began, waiting for Paige to nod. "It was to China. We had intelligence that they were covering up cases of the virus but I had no idea how bad it was until I got there. The things that they were doing..."</p>
<p>
  <em>Firing squads. Slaughter of entire villages. Burning of buildings with the occupants still inside. All in a failed effort to stop the spread.</em>
</p>
<p>Sasha would never stop having nightmares. Taking a deep breath, Sasha forced herself to focus on Nicholas. "By the time we realized how bad it was, there was no way for me to leave the country. I managed to speak with Nicholas a few times, but he was busy with patients. You know how he was."</p>
<p>"A healer to the core," Paige replied softly.</p>
<p>"At first I was at the Embassy," Sasha continued. "Then someone got infected. I don't know exactly how, but I ended up in the State Bunker. Phone service was down but I would check my email every so often, just in case, and then one day I got a message from Nicholas. It was from weeks, possibly months before. Someone must have switched on his phone close enough to a tower for the message to go through."</p>
<p>She paused, taking a deep breath. Sasha had never told anyone this before but Paige deserved to know. More importantly, Emmie deserved to know. Nicholas's last surviving blood relative. The uncle that she would never know. The idea of Nicholas's beloved niece growing up with no memories of him somehow making the fact that Nicholas was dead so much worse. "Nicholas stayed at the hospital until the end. He knew it was only a matter of time before he got sick but he kept thinking that the cure would arrive in time. He never gave up hope."</p>
<p>A tear rolled down Paige's cheek. "That sounds like Nicholas."</p>
<p>Sasha nodded, uncomfortable at Paige's tears. Not because of the emotion, not exactly, but because she herself remained dry eyed. <em>Perhaps that was what people meant when they said that all their tears were gone</em>.</p>
<p>"And you were in China the whole time?" Paige asked, and this time she was the one to reach out to Sasha, taking her hand between her own. "Alone?"</p>
<p>Sasha shrugged, telling the super simplified version. "I had a few local friends. They asked me to help spread the cure. I got back to St. Louis about six weeks ago."</p>
<p>"That must have been hard," Paige offered. "Being so far from home and from everyone you knew. Not knowing what was happening here. Wondering... still working, I suppose."</p>
<p>Sasha cracked a smile. "You know me. Never leaving work at work."</p>
<p>"You and Nicholas did have a few things in common," Paige replied, a teasing note to her voice. Sasha found herself smiling in return. Settling back into the easy relationship they had developed when Nicholas first brought Sasha home to meet the family. Sasha used to tease Nicholas that Paige and Robert were the real reason she agreed to marry him. Approachable and forthright and considerate, so very different from Sasha's own relations.</p>
<p>The whine of a child broke the silence and Sasha realized with a start that the sound must be coming from Emmie. Paige stood, moving towards a door at the back of the apartment. Then Paige paused, turning back to Sasha. "I'm glad that you survived, Sasha. So glad. That's what Nicholas would have wanted."</p>
<p>Sasha's eyes burned, the tears that had eluded her earlier returning without warning. <em>That was Nicholas</em>. Given the choice between saving himself and another, <em>saving her</em>, Nicholas would not have hesitated. He would have wanted Sasha to live. Paige reappeared after a minute, carrying a little girl with golden curls and large blue eyes that Sasha immediately recognized.</p>
<p>
  <em>Nicholas's eyes.</em>
</p>
<p>A living reminder of the man she once loved so fiercely. A little piece of him that remained here on Earth. Sasha blinked away tears. "Hello sweetheart."</p>
<p>Paige bounced the little girl as she sat down on the couch next to Sasha. "Emmie, this is your Aunt Sasha."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Carlton Burk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Character:<em> Carlton Burk</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Setting: </em>
  <em>Wyoming - shortly after </em>
  <em>Seasons 2</em>
</p>
<p>x</p>
<p>x</p>
<p>Carlton Burk opened his eyes as he felt the Jeep slow. The first thing he noticed was the sun streaming through the windshield, indicating that he had managed to get a few hours of sleep. He glanced to the backseat, confirming that Miller and Wolf were still out. Green had drawn the short straw and was stuck driving through the night.</p>
<p>"I never thought that I would start wishing for potholes," Danny Green muttered from the driver's seat.</p>
<p>"Why are we stopping?" Carlton asked as he sat up.</p>
<p>Danny glanced over. "I have to piss."</p>
<p>Carlton took the opportunity to do the same, setting up the solar kettle in the hopes of getting some half-decent coffee. He looked around until Danny returned, rubbing his hands together briskly to warm them. At least there wasn't too much snow yet, a situation that would likely change as they continued north. "Any idea where we are?"</p>
<p>"Wyoming," Danny replied, cracking his back. The long days of driving and worsening weather were getting on all of their nerves. "Captain Chandler set up a distribution drop about sixty miles west but I haven't seen so much as a house in hours. I'm wondering if we should cancel the stop."</p>
<p>Both men looked at the road ahead, which stretched straight as an arrow for as far as they could see, the mountains never seeming to get any closer no matter how long they drove. Carlton suspected that they were both thinking about their last stop, in what used to be Rapid City, South Dakota, and what was now a ghost town. A full day of driving to vaccinate less than twenty people. "What's after Gillette?"</p>
<p>Danny checked his map. "Billings, Montana."</p>
<p>"Looks like we have to go that way anyhow," Carlton pointed out. "Only one road."</p>
<p>Danny nodded, his reluctance obvious. But they both knew the drill. Notwithstanding Doctor Scott's efforts to get civilians to spearhead the effort to spread the contagious cure, too many roadblocks remained. Literal roadblocks, of course, set up during the days of the quarantine, but also practicalities such as lack of transportation and gas and food. The upshot being that the burden of spreading the cure remained on them.</p>
<p>"Water is boiling," Danny noted, picking up the kettle and pouring it over the coffee grounds. "Do you want to drive or make radio calls?"</p>
<p>It was a toss-up but, ultimately Carlton agreed to drive. Repeating the script every five minutes got old.</p>
<p>
  <em>This is the United States Navy. We have the cure for the Red Flu. We are currently headed towards Gillette, Wyoming and will arrive at approximately noon local time. Anyone seeking the cure can meet us at the high school or respond on this frequency.</em>
</p>
<p>Another half hour passed before either Wolf or Erik stirred, as Carlton sipped his coffee and Danny snoozed between broadcasts. Danny had just switched places with Miller, planning to get some actual shut-eye, when the radio sprang to life.</p>
<p>
  <em>This is Lieutenant Commander Cameron Burk of the United States Navy. We have received your broadcast and plan to make contact at Gillette.</em>
</p>
<p>Carlton wasn't aware of his foot hitting the brake until he realized that he was at a dead stop in the middle of a highway, the Jeep deathly silent. He grabbed the radio.</p>
<p>
  <em>Please repeat last transmission.</em>
</p>
<p>The pause seemed to take a year, and then the radio crackled back to life.</p>
<p>
  <em>Carlton? Is that you?</em>
</p>
<p>Tears pricked his eyelids, but Carlton ignored them.</p>
<p>
  <em>Yeah, Cam, it's me.</em>
</p>
<p>xxxxx</p>
<p>Several hours later, Carlton still wasn't sure that it was real. His eyes flickered to his brother, who was currently showing him and Danny around what looked vaguely like a training camp. As feared, the stop at Gillette had produced only a few dozen survivors looking for the cure. Rather than wait to see if more appeared, Danny and Carlton had left Rick and Wolf in charge of the distribution site and hitched a ride with Cameron to Facility A33.</p>
<p>"You have three hundred people here?" Danny asked as they followed Cameron into what looked like a greenhouse and turned out to be camp central, bustling with people who were moving from place to place doing, well, actually Carlton had no idea what they were doing. But other than a surprising number of civilians, the place looked no different from your typical base.</p>
<p>"Give or take," Cameron explained. "We started off with three hundred. Half Navy, half civilian dependents. We gained a few, mostly people we found while out scouting for food. We had a strict protocol in place to avoid infection, of course."</p>
<p>Carlton didn't ask for details. Either Cameron had gotten really, really lucky, or he had been forced to make some hard decisions about who was allowed in the door.</p>
<p>"How many of these places were built?" Danny asked.</p>
<p>"A couple dozen here in Wyoming, more planned for Texas and Arizona," Cameron replied. "The idea was to replicate a cruise ship, but on land. Plenty of space out here, as you can see. Each facility was created from prefab homes with wind and solar power. We got the well up and running almost immediately, thankfully. We ran out of fuel pretty quick but one of the guys converted a few of the SUVs to electric. They can make it almost sixty miles after a recharge. Food has been the biggest challenge, even with all of the cattle let loose when people started evacuating. Even with supplementing, we ran out of MREs within four months and had to start scavenging."</p>
<p>Cameron sounded proud of what they had accomplished here, something Carlton understood having seen stop after stop where a mere trickle of people appeared. At the same time, Cameron seemed to have no understanding of what was happening outside his camp. Carlton imagined it was no different from the day that the Nathan James hit Norfolk. Even with all that they had been through, seeing the devastation at the Naval base had shattered any remaining allusions that things would be okay, instead driving home just how bad things were. Stuck here in Wyoming, no means of contacting the outside world, Cameron had continued to hope for the best. That hope was now being shredded.</p>
<p>"Are you in touch with any of the other camps?" Danny continued.</p>
<p>"No. Not anymore." Cameron's face fell for just a minute. "So you really didn't know about these places?"</p>
<p>"Government's in shambles, man," Carlton replied without thinking. "Jeffrey Michener's now the president. He was tenth in the succession line."</p>
<p>"Although we're working to organize everything," Danny jumped in. "With your help, we could cover a lot more ground."</p>
<p>"We knew it was bad but..." Cameron shook his head. "I'll start organizing my guys into teams. Biggest issue is the lack of fuel. You have any extra?"</p>
<p>Danny grimaced at Carlton. Fuel was already a source of stress but there was no way they could leave these people here in temporary housing for the winter. "I'm assuming that you need more than a couple of canisters. Let me call St. Louis and see if I can get a tanker up here."</p>
<p>After dropping Danny off to coordinate with Cameron's second-in-command, Carlton followed him towards the make-shift cafeteria. "Have you heard anything from Mom and Dad?"</p>
<p>Cameron shook his head. "I was on the Milius when the outbreak first started. We swapped a few emails, but nobody was worried. Then I got busy coordinating the evacuation. By the time I realized how bad it was, it was too late. Lines were jammed."</p>
<p>"Yeah." Carlton's voice was quiet. "We were at EMCON. Didn't have a clue what was going on until we got attacked by the Russians."</p>
<p>"Russians?" Cameron seemed shocked. "Why?"</p>
<p>"Doctor Scott - the woman who developed the cure?" Carlton paused, waiting for his brother to nod. Apparently Cam <em>had </em>been listening during Danny's little speech. "They wanted her. We were in the Arctic trying to find the primordial strain of the virus. That's how Doctor Scott developed the cure."</p>
<p>"Damn." Cameron was silent for a long moment. "You hungry?"</p>
<p>"I could eat."</p>
<p>Cameron moved towards the counter, picking up two mugs and passing one to his brother. Looking down, Carlton recoiled at the sight of what looked like curdled, green milk. "What the hell is that?"</p>
<p>"A broccoli pineapple smoothie," Cameron replied.</p>
<p>Carlton started down at the sludge before him. "You're serious?"</p>
<p>"There was an old factory a couple hours away. They made and froze health foods. Luckily we found the place before the generators failed. It's been feeding us for months." Cameron managed to drink half of his smoothie with only the most minimal of shudders.</p>
<p>"You've been eating this crap for <em>months</em>?"</p>
<p>"Some of the earlier ones weren't too bad. Things with berries." Cameron chugged a glass of water, no doubt an effort to replace the taste of broccoli and pineapple. "This isn't the worst I've had. There was one with kale and mango that felt like you were swallowing string, no matter how much we pulverized the stuff."</p>
<p>Carlton sent up a prayer for small mercies. He might not have had water for two days, but at least there had been decent food. "You know, I have some MREs if you ... "</p>
<p>Cameron was on his feet before Carlton could finish the sentence. "That might just be the best news I heard all day."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Michael Slattery</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Character: Mike Slattery</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Setting: Jacksonville, Florida - Post Season 5; Seven Years after the Nathan James originally left Norfolk; AU (specifically, the Crossroads universe although that much detail is not necessary to read and enjoy)</em>
</p>
<p>x</p>
<p>Captain Michael Slattery looked up from a stack of reports to see Thomas Chandler, Russ Jeter, and Rachel Scott standing in the door to his office. Mike set down the pen he was holding, waving them inside.</p>
<p>"Coffee?" He stood without waiting for an answer, hoping that none of them could see how badly his hands were shaking as he pulled out the pot. There was literally no good reason for Rachel to be here, especially escorted by both Tom and Russ. The only question was how bad the bad news was. And Mike was pretty sure he knew the answer to that question without having to ask.</p>
<p>Tom shut the door behind them. "Have a seat, Mike."</p>
<p>Apparently the bad news was "closed-door" bad. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to sit, Mike walked to the window, fiddling with his coffee cup. The one Lucas had given him years ago that said <em>World's Bet Dad</em> in his son's shaky print. A misspelling that Mike and Christine both found adorable. "I assume that you're here because the DNA results came back."</p>
<p>The DNA Project was the culmination of a five-year crusade, one that began within months of the Nathan James arriving in St. Louis. Unfortunately, it had taken years of fighting with Congress to get the project funded, and even longer to get the laboratory set up and running. Rachel and Tom had both thrown their considerable influence behind the idea, and Mike knew that was largely for his benefit. Not that the plight of the hundreds of thousands of regular Americans who had family simply disappear during the time when the virus was running rampant didn't weigh heavily on all of them. The anguish of birthdays and anniversaries and holidays passing year-after-year without closure was felt by all of them. But Tom and, to a less extent Rachel, also felt somewhat responsible for what happened to Mike's wife and daughters. Always wondering if things might have been different had the Nathan James returned to Norfolk earlier.</p>
<p>"They did, Mike," Rachel was the one to speak, her voice steady. "We confirmed that Christine, Whitney, and Hannah died of the virus and were buried in the mass grave at Deer Park. I'm so sorry."</p>
<p>Russ moved to stand next to Mike, setting a hand to rest on his arm. "They are in the arms of God, my friend. I hope and pray that this news can bring you some form of peace."</p>
<p>Mike nodded, taking a sip of his coffee, allowing the news to sink in. He knew, of course. After almost seven years the likelihood of any of his family being out there was so abysmally small as to be statistically meaningless. Mike actually smiled at that thought. Seven years ago he never would have imagined the words <em>statistically meaningless</em> being part of his vocabulary.</p>
<p>Since the day the Nathan James first arrived back in the States with the cure, Mike had searched every place he could imagine Christine going. Norfolk and Deer Park, obviously, but also both of their hometowns and each base where he had been stationed. He had spoken to every person he could find that knew Christine or the girls, even tangentially, going as far as reaching out to Christine's surviving sorority sisters. As that list dwindled, Mike began thinking like a teenage girl, imagining where his daughters might flee if they were left on their own, the way that Ray and his crew had been. That search led him all over the country, helping him reunite a few kids with their own folks, but never giving him the answer that he was hoping to find.</p>
<p>The discovery two years ago of a mass grave at Deer Park seemed to confirm what Mike already knew - that his family never made it out of the compromised safe zone - but doubts still lingered. Hope, Mike had discovered, was a funny thing. Even now, something in him wondered if Rachel could possibly be wrong.</p>
<p>Mike turned to face her. "You're sure?"</p>
<p>Rachel's face was sympathetic. "I double-checked the results myself. There is no doubt, Mike. My office will coordinate the return of the cremated remains to you whenever you feel ready."</p>
<p>Mike nodded, the pressure building in his chest making speech difficult. There was a difference between knowing and <em>knowing</em>, it appeared, the grief he was feeling right now just as overpowering as the day back in the Arctic when he learned that Lucas was dead. Mike looked over to Russ. "I would appreciate it if you could arrange a memorial service, Master Chief."</p>
<p>"I would be honored," Russ replied without hesitation.</p>
<p>Mike glanced around his office, feeling detached from the situation. "I think that I'll take the rest of the day. Tom, can you let the powers that be know that I will be unavailable?"</p>
<p>"Of course." Tom hesitated. "Are you sure that you want to be alone right now?"</p>
<p>Nodding, Mike gathered up his wallet and keys. "I'll call you later."</p>
<p>xxxxx</p>
<p>Two hours later, Mike stood on his back porch with a cigar in one hand. He really should have saved his last Cuban for a day when he would enjoy it, but he had felt the need to commemorate today in some fashion. This might not be the anniversary of the day that Christine and the girls died or the day that they would be buried or even the last day that he saw them, but today was the day when he knew, for certain, that they were gone. And that meant something, even if he didn't yet know what.</p>
<p>Mike gazed out at the marsh. Watching the reeds bend in the wind. Listening to the hum of the frogs and the cry of the birds. One of the things that he liked about Jacksonville was how it reminded him of his family. He had been stationed in Florida years ago, his first assignment after officer candidate school, and Christine had loved it here. She had been pushing him to take a desk job in Miami, in fact, before the world went to hell. Mike had been on board with everything except the desk job part, imagining lazy afternoons out on the boat, holding fishing poles as Lucas chatted about alligators and turtles and manatees. Whitney, on the other hand, had been horrified by the thought of starting over at a new high school, leading to almost constant fights between her and Christine. Not that Whitney needed a reason to start a fight. Those had been a constant since the day his oldest daughter turned thirteen, as though a light switch flipped and his sweet baby girl went from Dr. Jekyl to Mr. Hyde in an instant. Mike had even joked to Christine that he was going to ask to deploy just before Hannah turned thirteen in an effort to escape the mayhem.</p>
<p>But Hannah never saw thirteen, always staying his precious little girl.</p>
<p>She would be eighteen now, his Hannah. An adult. Whitney would be twenty-one. A college student, probably, able to legally drink. Even Lucas would be in high school now, and Mike and Christine would be thinking about retirement. Anticipating becoming empty nesters in a few short years. Mike found it harder and harder to picture his children the way they would be now, always reverting to the memories of how they looked the last time he saw them, waving goodbye to him in Norfolk. It struck Mike that Lucas would soon be dead longer than he was alive, and the thought was a stab to the heart. A reminder of how little time his children were given on this planet.</p>
<p>Mike didn't turn when he heard the front door open, or when he heard the sound of rustling in the kitchen, or even when Sasha appeared with two glasses of whisky. He took one of the glasses. "I assume that you heard."</p>
<p>"A benefit to working in the intelligence business. I have sources everywhere," she replied, and he didn't need to look to know that she was smirking.</p>
<p>"So Tom called you," Mike said wryly, taking a sip of the whiskey. Top-end, of course. Sasha hated cheap booze.</p>
<p>"Naturally," Sasha replied, before her voice grew quietly. "I'm sorry, Mike."</p>
<p>They stood in silence, drinking their whiskies, watching the sunset over the mangrove trees as Mike puffed on his cigar.</p>
<p>"Neither Hannah nor Lucas ever went to Disneyworld. We didn't want to waste the money going when they were too little to enjoy it. We made that mistake with Whitney. Planned a whole trip for her second birthday. Both Christine and Whitney spent most of the time in tears." Mike chuckled at the memory. "Now I live within spitting distance of the place and I haven't gone a single time."</p>
<p>"You aren't missing much," Sasha replied. "I went with the team for Frankie's birthday last May. Pretty sure that everyone cried at some point, including Danny."</p>
<p>Mike chuckled. "Memory is a funny thing. At the time, you want to tear your hair out but now..."</p>
<p>"You would give anything to do it again," Sasha finished for him. She paused before pointing out. "You could, Mike. Christine and the kids are gone, but you could start over. I'm not saying that you try to replace them, but you could build a new family. Have some of those moments again."</p>
<p>Turning, Mike swallowed the last of his whisky, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from Sasha's face. "I have built a new family. You. Tom. Danny and Kara and their ever expanding rat-pack."</p>
<p>She gave him a meaningful look. "You know what I meant. Children were never never something that I wanted. So.." she paused, considering, weighing her words. "So not having them in the picture doesn't change my future the way that it changes yours. Taking away all the experiences - the graduations and weddings and grandchildren that you would have otherwise had."</p>
<p>Mike understood what Sasha was really saying. She didn't, had never, wanted children. It was a decision made long before Sasha and Mike fell into their rather unconventional affair. Hell, it was why Tom and Sasha went their separate ways so many years before. But it also meant that a choice to continue down their current path was a choice to give up on many of the things that, before the virus, Mike had blithely assumed were in his future.</p>
<p>"I have no interest in starting over." Mike shook his head. "I don't begrudge anyone who feels differently. Liam's birth was the best thing that could have happened to Andrea. But it's not for me. I had my children and now they're gone. That's just the way it is."</p>
<p>Sasha's hand reached out to touch his cheek. "I wish that things had turned out differently, Mike."</p>
<p>"Me too."</p>
<p>Mike took a deep breath, setting down the stub of his cigar. "So is there any food in those bags I heard you carrying? Or just booze."</p>
<p>"You know me better than that, Michael Slattery." Sasha reached out to squeeze his arm. "We need something to sop up the whisky."</p>
<p>Nodding, Mike looked back out at the marsh. And, for just for a second, he could see them at the edge of the water, backlit by the sunset. Christine holding Lucas's hand as he wadded through the water, searching for fish. Smiling as she listened to him chatter about alligators and legos. Whitney and Hannah sitting in lawn chairs, heads bent over a magazine, giggling over the articles on finding the perfect boyfriend. The scene so real that Mike felt himself take a step towards them.</p>
<p>"Mike?"</p>
<p>Sasha's voice broke the spell, and the vision disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Leaving only the marsh - and a feeling. A feeling that Christine and the children were together. Perhaps not here, where Mike wanted them to be, but still together. <em>And f</em><em>inally</em><em> at peace</em>.</p>
<p>With a last lingering glance at the now-empty marsh, Mike wrapped an arm around Sasha's waist. "Let's go eat."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Juan "Gator" Mejia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Character: Juan "Gator" Mejia</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Setting: </em>
  <em>San Juan, Puerto Rico - </em>
  <em>Three months after Season 2</em>
</p>
<p>x</p>
<p>x</p>
<p>Juan "Gator" Mejia stumbled over another downed tree, wondering how the hell Lieutenants Burk and Green were managing such a quick pace given that the road was literally buried in branches, mud, and other debris. Glancing around, Gator took several deep breaths. With everything they had seen on the mainland, he thought that he knew what to expect. But nothing could have prepared him for what they found here in San Juan. The double punch of the Red Flu, followed by a massive hurricane at some point soon after, had crippled the island.</p>
<p>Two hours of trampling through city streets revealed not a single survivor - only flooding, collapsed buildings, and bloated corpses. Poor Diaz was such a wreck that Petty Officer Cruz eventually sent the kid back to the Nathan James, deciding that there were some things that the teenager shouldn't have to see. Not yet anyway. Green actually suggested that Gator go with Diaz, throwing out some lame excuse about Captain Slattery needing assistance navigating around the island, but Gator wasn't fooled. He could tell that Green and Burk and Miller and Cruz were all worried about the same thing.</p>
<p>They were all half convinced that there really were no survivors here. That the weather had finished off those who the Red Flu hadn't. After all, Puerto Rico wasn't that big. Only three million people on the entire island. Four hundred thousand in San Juan. And fewer than five thousand in tiny Celada, where Gator grew up. Gator was reasonably good at math and a ninety percent infection rate meant that, at best, only three hundred thousand people survived the Red Flu. The hurricane that followed could easily have taken out the remainder.</p>
<p>As Nishioka would say, the odds of Gator finding his family alive were vanishingly small. The odds of running across the decomposing corpse of someone he knew, not so small.</p>
<p>But Gator couldn't leave. He needed to be here and see what had happened to his home with his own eyes. To go by the home where he grew up and where his parents still lived. <em>Or used to live</em>. To check on his brothers and nieces and nephews. But, most critically, to look for Isabel.</p>
<p>
  <em>His beautiful, angelic Isabel.</em>
</p>
<p>At first, when he saw the note in their Norfolk apartment explaining that his wife returned to Puerto Rico as the virus began to spread, Gator had been relieved. After all, the virus had decimated Norfolk. Surely Puerto Rico, being an island, would have better containment procedures. Isabel left early, before the virus began spreading exponentially. And once she was there, he had told himself that she could have hunkered down. Riding out the worst of the virus surrounded by friends and family.</p>
<p>Now that he was here, though, Gator could recognize that he had been lying to himself. Puerto Rico was no different than Norfolk or St. Louis or Gitmo or anywhere else that the Nathan James had put in since their return from the Arctic. The paradise of his memory had turned into a ghost-town.</p>
<p>"Sir, I have someone over here!"</p>
<p>Javier Cruz was speaking in rapid Spanish as they approached and Gator began to translate, knowing that Green's Spanish was barely passable and Burk, Miller, and Kowalski spoke none at all. "Sounds like everyone fled inland during the last storm. There are some survivors. Most people are holed up in small settlements in la Cordillera Central." At four blank looks, Gator gestured towards the mountains. "Up there."</p>
<p>"Can he show us where?" Green asked, the question directed at Cruz.</p>
<p>In response, the man in question switched to English. "I heard a radio. You have the cure?"</p>
<p>"Right here." Burk held up the now familiar bright yellow case.</p>
<p>As they inoculated the man, who Gator now knew was Tomas, Cruz continued to pepper him with questions about the situation on the island. But Gator was hardly listening, just wanting to start moving again. It was only when Tomas mentioned Caguas, the slightly larger town to the west of his childhood home, that Gator focused his attention back to the present. "What about Celada? What happened there?"</p>
<p>"I don't know about Celada, but the safe zone in Caguas held," Tomas explained, switching back and forth from Spanish to English as he glanced around at the group.</p>
<p>Gator stared at him, hesitant to hope. "So there are survivors?"</p>
<p>"Si," Tomas replied simply.</p>
<p>Having followed enough of the conversation, Green took charge. "Burk, you, Cruz, and Kowalski go with Tomas back to Bayamon and start vaccinating people. Look for a decent spot to drop the helo with supplies. Pretty sure that these people need just about everything. Gator, Miller and I are headed east to Cag-whatever-it-was to check the safe zone there. Everyone stay frosty, just in case."</p>
<p>This time Gator didn't care how fast Green moved, it was still too slow. Knowing that there was a chance, an actual chance, that his family might have survived more than enough motivation. He wondered how Isabel would have done living for months in an evacuation center designed to provide only short term habitation during hurricanes. From what they had seen, the niceties such as indoor plumbing were long gone but, more importantly, the hurricane had destroyed swathes of crops. What would they have done for food? As they got closer, Green began sending out a message at regular intervals, switching between English and butchered Spanish.</p>
<p>"This is the United States Navy. We have the cure to the Red Flu. We are looking for any survivors. We are currently headed towards Caguas. This is the United States Navy..."</p>
<p>The lack of response was almost worse than before. The hope of hearing that the safe zone might have held, followed by the deathly silence from the very place that should be bustling with life. They had reached the outskirts of Caguas - there was no direct route to Celada - before running into another human, this one very different from Tomas. The man stepped out from behind a roadblock, M4 aimed directly at them. "Vete! No queremos que estés aquí."</p>
<p>
  <em>Go away. We don't want you here.</em>
</p>
<p>Green set the CDC case - the universal sign for medicine, from what Gator could tell - down. "We're with the United States Navy. Our ship arrived this morning. We have a vaccine for the Red Flu."</p>
<p>"We didn't hear anything about a vaccine." The man sounded suspicious but not hostile, and Gator wondered whether he was military himself. It was harder to tell now, without the classic haircut as a give away.</p>
<p>"Happy to talk you through it, soldier. We've been making radio calls all morning," Green continued, apparently having come to the same conclusion as Gator.</p>
<p>"Marine," the man corrected.</p>
<p>Green smiled, flipping open his military ID and taking a step closer so the man could take a look. "Mountain Warfare Unit. Lieutenant Danny Green. You?"</p>
<p>"1/2 Scout Sniper out of Lejeune, sir," the man replied, standing up a bit straighter. "Private First Class Miguel Enzo."</p>
<p>"You from here, Enzo?" Green continued, voice casual, as though there was nothing unusual about standing around chatting while people were dying. Apparently sensing Gator's growing agitation, Miller gave Gator a quick shake of his head, and Gator forced himself to remember that the TAC team had far more experience than he did at actually convincing people they were for real.</p>
<p>Enzo was shaking his head. "Nah, I'm from New Hampshire. Our unit was sent down to hold the quarantine. When things got crazy the commander divided us up and assigned us to the various shelters. Things weren't too bad until the first hurricane hit and knocked out pretty much all of our communication systems. We haven't heard much from anyone since then but orders were nobody in or out to avoid infection. So we've stayed put."</p>
<p>Green was nodding. He gestured to Gator. "One of my guys grew up near here. We're just trying to find his family and get them the cure. We brought plenty with us for everyone. If you want, we can stay here while you talk to someone who might recognize Juan Mejia. He's originally from Celada."</p>
<p>"That makes sense, sir." Enzo looked around briefly. "You'll stay put? Shouldn't take me more than ten minutes."</p>
<p>"We'll be here," Green replied, brushing off an overturned tree root and sitting down, eyes drifting shut. Miller followed Green's example although he didn't quite manage to look as casual.</p>
<p>Gator stared at them in disbelief as Enzo left. "We're just going to sit here?"</p>
<p>Green cracked an eyelid. "You think going in guns blazing is a better idea?"</p>
<p>"Well, no," Gator admitted.</p>
<p>Green sat up slightly, sighing. "I get that it sucks, Gator. But think of it this way, that right there is probably why this safe zone is intact. It's a good thing."</p>
<p>Unable to sit, Gator tried to pace, only to quickly figure out that the only thing he was likely to do was break a leg given how much damage the hurricane had done. The next few minutes seemed to take hours as Green sat, eyes closed, unmoving, and Miller attempted to copy him. Far more than ten minutes passed before Green and Miller stood up, eyes focused on the spot where Enzo had been standing, and Gator felt his heart begin racing. Wondering who would appear. His father or a brother or...</p>
<p>"Juan?"</p>
<p>And, suddenly, she was there. <em>His Isabel</em>. In jean shorts and a red top, her hair tied back in a neat braid. Her voice, quivering and hoarse, was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. "Isabel!"</p>
<p>"Juan!"</p>
<p>He wrapped his arms around her, spinning around, almost tumbling them both into the debris. She was crying and laughing and Gator felt the tears running down his face as well. But none of that mattered. The only thing he cared about was that she was alive.</p>
<p>Then she pulled away, her hands coming up to frame his face. "Juan. We thought you were dead. We hadn't heard anything in so long. I didn't believe that it was you! And you have a vaccine?"</p>
<p>"Not just a vaccine," Gator replied, his grin broadening. "A cure. We can cure the sick."</p>
<p>Again Isabel threw her arms around him. "It's a miracle!"</p>
<p>Laughing, Gator pulled away, grabbing her hand. "Here, let me get you a shot."</p>
<p>But when he went to move towards Green, who was already retrieving a dose, Isabel pulled back. "First I have someone who I want you to see."</p>
<p>Gator turned, puzzled, but willing to do anything that his wife requested at that moment. And then he saw his father. "Papa!"</p>
<p>His head was spinning in disbelief as he charged forward, only realizing at the last moment that the man was holding a small child. Fortunately, Isabel was there to take the child, while Gator and his father hugged and then stood back to study each other from head to foot. "Mama and the others?" Gator whispered.</p>
<p>"We are all here. All of us." His father beamed, gesturing towards Isabel and the child. "Including Lola."</p>
<p>Confused, Gator glanced towards his wife, who stretched out her hand to grasp his. "Juan, meet your daughter."</p>
<p>"Daughter?"</p>
<p>For a moment, he thought he was going to pass out. A thought that was apparently shared by others as, abruptly, Gator felt Miller and Green move to stand on either side of him, holding his arms. "Steady there, Gator."</p>
<p>He blinked at Isabel. "What? How? When?"</p>
<p>She was laughing, even as tears rained down her face, the little girl she held looking around in utter confusion. "I found out that I was pregnant just after you left. That's why I came here. I wanted to be with the family, whatever happened."</p>
<p>Gator continued to stare, his focus now moving to the little girl - <em>Lola.</em> His daughter. And then he was laughing again. "A daughter? I have a daughter?"</p>
<p>"Congratulations Daddy," Green said, slapping Gator on the back.</p>
<p>Mind still whirling, Gator looked between Isabel and Lola. "Can I hold her?"</p>
<p>"Of course." Without warning, Isabel plopped Lola into Gator's arms.</p>
<p>He stared at the child, uncertain of what to do. Lola regarding him curiously, before stretching out a hand to try to grab his glasses. And Gator felt a rush of emotion - love, wonder, terror - that he had never before imagined. <em>He had a daughter</em>.</p>
<p>"Hello Lola. I'm your papa. And boy do I have a story to tell you."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Lloyd Milowsky</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Character: Lloyd Milowsky</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Setting: Norfolk, Virginia - Solace's arrival mid-season 2 (AU)</em>
</p>
<p>x</p>
<p>Doctor Lloyd Milowsky stood on the deck of Solace as the hospital ship drew closer to shore. The Captain had announced that they would arrive in Norfolk within the hour, and Lloyd was not the only person up here watching for that first glimpse of land. Four long months ago his team had begun working in isolation, retrofitting Solace to contain a fully functioning laboratory capable of manufacturing thousands of doses of a vaccine. Just under a month ago they had put out to sea in the hopes of finding Doctor Scott and helping disburse the cure. Now they were limping home, lab destroyed, half their personnel dead, without having disbursed a single dose of the cure.</p>
<p>In other words, it had all been pointless.</p>
<p>Four months ago, Lloyd kissed his wife of thirty years goodbye as he left for work, not knowing that it would be the last time he saw her. Although her daily texts and emails stopped months ago, he had chalked that up to problems with the telecommunications network. After all, Judy was smart. And she had promised to barricade herself inside their house. To be careful. To avoid all people. Apparently it was a promise that she was unable to keep. When a search of his home revealed that it was empty, Lloyd had clung to the faint hope that Judy was in a safe zone. But then the Naval team at Norfolk found Judy's name on the intake list at Mercy Hospital. The possibility of there being two Judith Ruth Milowskys in Norfolk too implausible for Lloyd to seriously consider.</p>
<p>A green haze began to appear on the horizon and Lloyd glanced over at Warren Brauer, one of the younger scientists, who was impatiently pacing back and forth across the deck. There had been no word about Warren's wife and three small children, despite Lieutenant Yates searching both the Brauer home and the hospital records, leaving Warren yo-yoing between hope and despair. In some ways, Lloyd realized, he was fortunate to know what happened to Ruth, despite the crippling pain the knowledge of her death brought with it.</p>
<p>As the green smudge turned first to a clear line and then to brown and gray as ships and buildings came into sight, Lloyd began to map out his plan of action. First was creating a functioning lab here at Norfolk, something that Lloyd thought he could do by scavenging local hospitals. Although the output would not compare to a fully functioning laboratory, it would be enough to get started. Next would be retrofitting Solace, a much more intensive process as there was little point to moving the ship around if there was insufficient output. Over the past few days, Lloyd and the other surviving doctors and scientists had examined every piece of equipment onboard to determine what could be salvaged and what was completely destroyed. Unfortunately, the latter far outweighing the former and locating replacements would be challenging. Even more problematic, assuming that he was able to get Solace's lab up and running at anything close to maximum output, there was the problem of staffing the vessel, with both medical and Naval personnel in short supply. Doctor Scott had confided that the Nathan James' call for doctors, sailors, scientists and pilots upon reaching Norfolk had resulted in only two dozen responses. Certainty not enough to staff Solace for an Atlantic crossing. And given the Nathan James' own losses over the past few months, Captain Chandler could not spare a single person to assist.</p>
<p>The optimism that Lloyd felt only two weeks before, upon learning that Doctor Scott had achieved the impossible, was now gone. Crushed by the reality of the task before him.</p>
<p>Solace slipped into the harbor and Lloyd was surprised by how different the port looked from the last time that he was here. Several of the vessels had been moved so that the docks closest to base command sat empty. All except for the one where a ship bearing a Red Cross flag was in the process of unloading pallets of what Lloyd could only hope was the cure. Captain Chandler had indicated that Lieutenant Yates was a solid man who would help Lloyd with whatever was needed and, for the first time in days, Lloyd felt a glimmer of hope. His gaze moving from the palates, Lloyd noticed the small crowd that had gathered on the next pier, the one where Solace was apparently headed. A few uniforms, but mostly civilian garb. Families, he wanted to believe, of those who were on board.</p>
<p>"Have you heard anything about Kevin?" Shelley Jacobs asked as she stopped next to him at the rail.</p>
<p>A fellow scientist, Shelley too had lost her spouse, although he had died in the early days of the virus, while they were still in isolation on the base. Lloyd glanced at her. "No. We told him to stay where he was. Traveling was too dangerous."</p>
<p>Kevin. His twenty-six year old son who was, or at least had been, working on a graduate degree in aeronautical engineering at Purdue. When the outbreaks began, Lloyd assured Kevin that the best thing to do was to stay put and hunker down in Indiana. It was advice that Lloyd almost immediately regretted, as colleges quickly became the prime source of the virus's spread, but by then it was too late. There was no way for Kevin to safely travel to Norfolk even if he had wanted to.</p>
<p>And, given what happened to Judy, probably pointless as well.</p>
<p>"I think that I see Kathy," Shelley said, pointing to the crowd.</p>
<p>Squinting, Lloyd confirmed that Warren's wife was there, holding onto at least two children. He took a step back, calling out to the man. "Warren! We see Kathy!"</p>
<p>His head jerking around as though on a string, Warren charged towards the rail, his eyes darting everywhere until they landed on his family. Tears rolling down his face as he waved his arms back and forth like a windmill, three children waving back. And, despite his melancholia, Lloyd felt a smile form. A life saved, a family reunited. Wasn't that what his job was about, after all?</p>
<p>Solace jerked to a stop as the engines ceased, the ropes thrown over the side. Lloyd watched as the plank was lowered and Warren raced down to collect his wife in his arms. Then Shelley grabbed his arm, her hand squeezing him tightly. "Lloyd, is that Kevin?"</p>
<p>Only then did Lloyd tear his gaze from Warren's family to look at the other people gathered on the dock. A few of the civilians were tying off ropes and helping to secure Solace, clearly there for work. The remainder of the crowd was splitting into groups surrounding various scientists or sailors, presumably surviving friends and family. But towards the back of the group stood a single man, hand up to his eyes as he searched Solace's deck. Their eyes met and Lloyd's heart almost stopped. Not bothering to respond to Shelley, Lloyd broke into a run, dashing down the gangplank and darting around people until he reached his son.</p>
<p>Lloyd threw his arms around Kevin, tears streaming down his face. "You're alive. I can't believe that you're alive."</p>
<p>After a moment, Kevin managed to extract himself. His own face was wet with tears, despite the smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. "Hi Dad. I'm home."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Danny Green</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Character: Danny Green</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Setting: Los Angeles, California - Between Seasons 2 and 3 (Immediately following O'Connor's story, although they don't need to be read together)</em>
</p>
<p>x</p>
<p>Danny Green made his way through the crowd that was currently celebrating Michael O'Connor's homecoming and the arrival of the cure for the Red Flu, nodding to Wolf and Miller as he passed. The two men were standing to the side, apart from the group, clearly outsiders. Under other circumstances, Danny would have made their excuses and left. Pushing on to other areas of the city, checking safe zones and spreading the cure, offering to pick O'Connor up on their way back to the Nathan James.</p>
<p>But his business here was not yet done. And Danny strongly suspected that the success of this mission would depend on getting the assistance of someone who knew the current lay of the land.</p>
<p>Reaching his target, Danny waited until Mr. Williams - during the three hours since the TAC team arrived, Danny had yet to hear anyone refer to the man by his first name - was alone before approaching. "Sir, I need to make a stop at Firestone and Alameda. I was hoping that you could give me a little intel on the situation in that area."</p>
<p>"That was a tough neighborhood even before the Red Flu hit. Word is that most people fled." The man looked Danny up and down before continuing. "It would be better if you let one of us handle it. You'll stick out too much."</p>
<p>Danny smiled grimly, Frankie's voice floating through his head. <em>As if a lily-ass Yankee like you would survive five minutes alone in Watts.</em> Danny had managed more than five minutes, actually, spending a few shores leave in sunny California with Frankie rather than going home to snowy Connecticut. But they rarely stayed in Los Angeles long, instead making a quick pit stop for Frankie to see his mother and older siblings before heading for Palm Springs or San Diego. Picking whatever hotel grabbed their fancy. Spending their days by the pool and their nights at whatever club the bartender recommended.</p>
<p>A wave of grief flowed through Danny. Unlike for O'Connor, there would be no happy reunion for either Frankie or the Benz family.</p>
<p>"This isn't something I can delegate," Danny explained to Mr. Williams, deciding that honesty was the best approach. "I have a flag that I need to deliver."</p>
<p>Understanding crossed Mr. Williams' face and Danny wondered who he might have lost. O'Connor would hardly have been the only person around here to enlist immediately following high school and, even before the Red Flu, not all of those kids would have made it back. Before the man could respond, however, another voice cut in. "I'll take you."</p>
<p>Turning to face O'Connor senior, a man he had met only hours before, Danny hesitated. "I don't want to take you away from your son."</p>
<p>"You brought my son home," Paul O'Connor replied without hesitation. "Least I can do is help you do the same for another family."</p>
<p>Danny nodded, deciding that further protest would be deemed an insult. "Thank you. Let me know when you are ready to go."</p>
<p>Less than ten minutes later, Danny, Halsey, Wolf, Paul O'Connor, and a guy named Deandre were on their way through a maze of side streets, each of them carrying a CDC case filled with doses of the contagious cure. Danny noted the boarded up doors and windows, red Xs sprayed on streets, and piles of cars used to block intersections with a detached eye. The hellish vista having become hauntingly familiar.</p>
<p>"Did Castillo put these up?" Danny asked after the third time they paused to make their way around the edges of a barbed wire fence.</p>
<p>Deandre snorted. "Nah. That was the damn National Guard. The rat bastards fenced us in like pigs."</p>
<p>"You hold your tongue," Paul shot back and Danny felt a shiver go up his back. One that Halsey must have picked up on, inserting himself between Danny and the two men. Not for the first time since the Nathan James left St. Louis, Danny wished that Tex was with them. The man might be a complete pain-in-the-ass, but he was also damn good at reading people and smoothing over situations like this.</p>
<p>"Why? Because we might offend someone from the almighty Nathan James?" Deandre retorted.</p>
<p>"No," Paul replied, his tone not changing at all, and Danny suddenly knew where O'Connor got his ability to stay calm under pressure. "Because we're here to help Lieutenant Green inform a family that their son died finding a cure for the Red Flu. A cure that saved all of us. And you should have a little bit more respect for that sacrifice."</p>
<p>Deandre glanced at Danny before looking away. "Sorry."</p>
<p>"We've seen some pretty bad things," Danny said quietly. A peace offering, but also the truth. "I imagine you have too."</p>
<p>"Your guy. How did he die?" Deandre asked, an olive branch of his own.</p>
<p>Danny thought that he was prepared but now, faced with actually answering the question, he found that he wasn't. Maybe he never would be. "We needed to refuel after we left the Arctic with the materials that Doctor Scott needed to develop a cure, but there was a Russian battlecruiser after us that we couldn't shake long enough to put in anywhere. We found a cruise ship floating in the Atlantic. It was one of the quarantine ships that were sent out. Everyone was dead." The other two men nodded. Italy wasn't the only country to have tried - and failed - to save people by putting them out to sea. "We boarded to drain their fuel and gather supplies. Benz got exposed."</p>
<p>"You going to give the cure to them?" Paul O'Connor asked after a moment. "The Russians?"</p>
<p>Not the question that Danny was expecting, still caught in the memories of Benzo's last moments.</p>
<p>Thankfully, Wolf responded. "President Michener has already sent planes to Europe and China, and the Navy has ships in both the Atlantic and Pacific. Just a matter of time before the cure spreads across the globe."</p>
<p>Paul nodded. "Good."</p>
<p>They rounded another corner and Deandre stopped. "That's Firestone."</p>
<p>Danny stared in shock. Before them was ... nothing. A crater that stretched the width of the road, both sides lined with twisted and burned cars, fractured buildings, and steel wire fence. This wasn't an accident, or even Castillo. This was...</p>
<p>"They blew up the road?" Wolf asked, sounding as bewildered as Danny felt. Every time Danny thought that he had seen it all...</p>
<p>"To create a fire break," Paul explained. "Except for the virus. The Governor divided LA into ten sections. Nobody in or out. Of course, the Governor was up in Sacramento. He didn't know all that much about how things work down here in SoCal."</p>
<p>And, suddenly, Danny understood why Deandre was here. He looked at the young man. "How do we get across?"</p>
<p>The man shrugged. "Nobody thought about the tunnels."</p>
<p>"Nobody ever does, thank God." Danny's hands tightened into fists as memories of Baltimore rose unbidden. Wolf's hand came up to his shoulder. Even Paul and Deandre stayed quiet, seeming to understand that this was not a time to ask questions. "How do we get in?"</p>
<p>"There's a manhole a block over," Deandre answered, turning to pick his way through the rubble.</p>
<p>Fifteen minutes later, the four men and Halsey were on the other side of no man's land, looking at more devastation. But worse than the view was the silence. One that indicated that nothing - <em>nobody</em> - here was alive. Danny glanced at Deandre. "When was the last time you came over?"</p>
<p>Deandre shrugged. "A couple weeks back. Usually I set a signal, make sure it's safe first. We need to check in before heading to your friend's place. Don't want to ruffle the wrong feathers."</p>
<p>As much as he wanted to protest the delay, Danny knew better than to argue. The collapse of government left huge holes, and while some of those holes were filled by people like Mr. Williams, others were filled by those with far fewer scruples. Besides, having given Paul and Deandre the contagious cure only hours earlier, the more people that they came into contact with the better. Twenty minutes passed before Deandre stopped in front of an apartment building that looked just as dilapidated as the ones they had walked past, hammering on the door before walking back to the street to wait. Less than a minute passed before a head appeared, wearing a gas mask. "What are you doing here D and who are they?"</p>
<p>"You know Mr. O'Connor," Deandre gestured to Paul. "His son Mikey's ship, the Nathan James, got to the port today. Mikey brought us the cure. Thought we would spread the wealth."</p>
<p>"Hold on." The head disappeared for a moment, before the door opened and they were gestured inside. Danny followed the man down and down again, until they stood in an underground parking lot filled with tents, converted into a living space much the way that Thornwald had done in Baltimore. As they picked their way across the dimly lit pavement, Danny could see dozens of faces peeking out, apparently curious about who they were and what they were doing.</p>
<p>Finally they reached their destination, a fire pit surrounded by a dozen or so men, about half in fatigues. Vaguely Danny wondered whether they were actually military before deciding that it didn't matter. A man in his early thirties stood. "Mano says you have the cure for the Red Flu. We heard a few rumors going around but you know how that goes. You for real, Deandre?"</p>
<p>Deandre held the other man's eyes. "My sister and her babies are here, Slim. Think I would have let these guys in if I wasn't sure?"</p>
<p>A slow smile broke across Slim's face. "You, Deandre, just became my favorite brother-in-law. How many doses you got there?"</p>
<p>"Enough for everyone," Paul spoke up. "And while we're doing that, Lieutenant Green here needs to deliver a flag. One of his guys who died finding the cure. Any of you know the Benz family?"</p>
<p>Flipping open the CDC case, Danny began the familiar process of loading the first set of shots as the men talked among themselves, until all had shaken their heads in the negative. Passing the first loaded canister to Wolf, Danny spoke directly to Slim. "Think I could take a walk over to his place to check?"</p>
<p>"Suit yourself." Slim shrugged, before gesturing to another man. "Johnny will take you."</p>
<p>Leaving Wolf to handle distribution, Danny moved towards Johnny, surprised when Deandre fell in with them as well. He glanced sideways, but Deandre shook his head, apparently not wanting to talk around Johnny. Or perhaps not wanting to talk at all.</p>
<p>The trip to Frankie's mother's apartment was short, only five minutes. As expected, there was no answer to Danny's knock and the men pushed their way inside, climbing to the fourth floor. Although the door was locked, Johnny got it open quicker than Danny would have managed, even with the benefit of the master lockpick that he always carried in his vest.</p>
<p>Stepping inside, Danny knew instantly what he would find. The smell unmistakable. Johnny gagged and turned to bolt back outside, but Deandre held it together. Pulling out a handkerchief, Danny tossed it to the man. "It helps. A little."</p>
<p>Signaling Halsey to stay with Deandre, Danny walked towards the only bedroom. Renee Benz had downsized immediately after her husband died, even before Frankie enlisted, forcing him to spend his last six months before enlisting sleeping on the couch. Perhaps her own way of ensuring that none of her adult children came back to live with her. Entering the bedroom, Danny found the woman lying in bed, no indication that she had been disturbed in any way. Danny pulled the sheet over her head. Wondering whether it was better this way. Renee never having to know that her precious baby boy took his own life rather than infect his crew.</p>
<p>Danny supposed that he could try to find one of Frankie's three older sisters, but without addresses, that seemed like a goose chase. Whether or not they were still alive, they were certainly not here. Perhaps after the Nathan James finished spreading the cure and were back in the States again, Danny would be able to locate them. Maybe he could get Kara or Val to put a flag on their names.</p>
<p>But, for now, this was the best that he could do.</p>
<p>Moving back to the kitchen, Danny pulled Frankie's carefully folded flag from his pack, placing it on the center of the table, wishing that he had thought to bring a case to protect it from the dust and grime. Next to the flag, Danny set Frankie's tin of metals, along with the letter that he wrote almost a year ago, just in case he was no longer around to personally deliver Franklin's belongings. Telling the Benz family what had happened. Well, part of what had happened. Focusing more on Franklin's bravery in the Arctic and less on the events on the cruise ship. Finally, Danny set down two pictures. One Frankie's official military shot, his face far too solemn as he sat stiff as a board in his dress uniform, looking almost unrecognizable without his trademark smirk. The other was a photograph of the four of them - him, Benz, Smith, and Berchem - the day before they boarded the Nathan James. One of the final moments that Danny could now remember as <em>normal</em> and not colored by the virus or the Russians or Tophet's betrayal.</p>
<p>Danny set his palm on the table, fingers spread as he stared down at the makeshift memorial. The last thing that he could do for his best friend.</p>
<p>
  <em>No, not the last.</em>
</p>
<p>Because there was something he could still do. He could keep Frankie alive through memories and stories. He could share those with his wife and son, and perhaps someday with other children or grandchildren. He could make sure that Franklin Edward Benz was not forgotten.</p>
<p>Danny turned to Deandre. "I'm done here."</p>
<p>And then he left without looking back.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Bernie "Bacon" Cowley</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N - for Aspect, since she asked about Bacon. And a great big thank you to Scousedancer for helping me bounce ideas for this one! This one is a bit different but I like how it turned out and I hope that you do too!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Character: Bernie "Bacon" Cowley</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Setting: St. Louis, between seasons 2 and 3, canon through season 2</em>
</p>
<p>x</p>
<p>x</p>
<p>Bernie Cowley, aka Bacon, sat at the four-top sipping his beer. The décor in this place was terrible, the service worse, but it was the only restaurant in St. Louis that served edible jambalaya. Assuming that you were using the terms "jambalaya" and "edible" loosely. The dish before him contained no shrimp or sausage, and was about as bland as white rice. With the current supply shortages, Bacon assumed that half the ingredients were simply unavailable. Although he wasn't sure he could forgive the lack of salt, given that there was a full shaker sitting on every table in the joint.</p>
<p>"What are you drinking?"</p>
<p>Bacon glanced up at the familiar voice to find Eric Miller, Javier Cruz, Danny Green, and Carlton Burk heading in his direction. He nodded to his pint glass. "An ale. It's all the place has on draft."</p>
<p>The group crowded around the too-small table, Danny flipping his chair to sit backwards and picking up a menu. "What's good here?"</p>
<p>"Nothing," Bacon and Javier responded in unison, cracking Carlton up.</p>
<p>"Jinx!" Javier shouted.</p>
<p>Bacon flipped him off, turning back to Green. "Beer is acceptable. This used to be a brewery so the guy knows what he is doing there. Food is subpar."</p>
<p>Danny pinned them both with what Bacon recognized as his I'm-not-in-the-mood-for-this-shit look, the one the guy used to wear a lot before he and Kara kissed and made up. "Why are we here if the food is bad?"</p>
<p>"Bad jambalaya is better than no jambalaya," Javier responded with a shrug. "And nobody asked you to join us. You're just pissy because Kara has to work."</p>
<p>Well, that did explain both Green's presence and his bad mood. Danny rolled his eyes, attempting to flag down a server as he responded. "It's BS. We just got back from delivering the vaccine to Phoenix and the James leaves Friday and Kara can't get a single day off work to spend some time together."</p>
<p>Carlton cut him off. "Tisk tisk. Your wife is tired of your ugly mug already, Green. That doesn't bode well for your future marital bliss."</p>
<p>"Tisk Tisk?" Javier repeated, snorting.</p>
<p>Talking about the Nathan James' impending departure reminded Bacon that he was not going to be on-board when the ship left, having failed his most recent physical. Commander Slattery had been sympathetic to Bacon's circumstances but unbending in his decision. Bacon was going nowhere until he lost the last thirty pounds to get down to regulation weight. Which meant that, starting Friday, somebody else was going to be in charge of feeding his people.</p>
<p>Bacon stood. "I think the server is on break. Let me rustle up some drinks."</p>
<p>By the time Bacon procured drinks and food for everyone, the conversation had moved on from Danny's irritation with his wife to Carlton's irritation with his brother.</p>
<p>"He actually started giving me a lecture on how the 50-inch was prone to jamming," Carlton grumbled. "As if I hadn't lived on the ship for three years. Hell, I'm the one who got chased through a ship by insurgents while Foster, I mean Green, fiddled with the thing. The guy is such a damn know-it-all."</p>
<p>"Must run in the family," Eric muttered, then flushed bright red when everyone turned to him in surprise.</p>
<p>Danny slapped him on the back. "We're starting to rub off on you, kid."</p>
<p>Bacon set down the food and watched as they all dug in. "Manifest is out then?"</p>
<p>"Yup." Javier took a spoonful, before making a face and reaching for the salt. He applied liberally. "Saw that you got transferred to the White House."</p>
<p>"Back to cooking for the man," Bacon replied, forcing a smile. A month of one-on-one training sessions with Tex had resulted in Bacon losing twenty pounds between Baltimore and St. Louis. But, following their arrival, long days spent feeding not just the crew but the surge of refugees who flooded the city looking for both the cure and a safe place to stay had stalled Bacon's progress. And then, just when things started to calm down, there had been the news from Nashville.</p>
<p>Bacon cut that train of thought off immediately.</p>
<p>Really, he should be flattered. His new role as head chef for President Michener came with a promotion and a pay raise. Plus, he would still get to see Captain Chandler and Kara daily, both of whom had promised to keep him updated on the Nathan James and her crew.</p>
<p>Which reminded Bacon of something that he wanted to tell Danny. "I've been taking lunch up to Lieutenant Green every day. Heavy on the protein since she's now in her third trimester. It's supposed to help the baby gain weight."</p>
<p>"Thanks man." Danny smiled but, much like Bacon, the gesture was clearly forced. His eyes remaining somber. The eyes of a man who wasn't going to be around to see his son born. Who understood the very real possibility that he would never meet his son at all. Danny took a hesitant spoonful of the jambalaya. "Actually this isn't bad. Usually this stuff is way too spicy."</p>
<p>Javier glanced at Bacon, rolling his eyes. "Connecticut."</p>
<p>Bacon chuckled as he took a long drink of his newly refreshed ale. Danny's food quirks had been the source of amusement in the galley since he came on board last year. As if anyone could actually locate the finely-diced onions in Bacon's homemade meatballs. And who hated tomatoes? At least the guy didn't complain when the only food option that contained neither coconut, tomatoes, or onions was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.</p>
<p>"You should open that restaurant you used to talk about, Bacon," Eric said. "Your food is way better than this. Even when we were short on supplies you always came up with something good."</p>
<p>"Restaurants cost money," Bacon said with a shake of his head. Besides, it wouldn't be the same. Not without Bert and Louis. Bacon felt the familiar lump growing in his throat. The one that had appeared the day that Captain Chandler appeared in the cafeteria asking to see him, flanked by Commander Garnett and Master Chief Jeter The purpose of their visit immediately obvious to everyone present. That had been their dream. The three brothers opening a restaurant together. Bacon doing the cooking while Bert ran the front and Louis managed the business side.</p>
<p>But now Bert and Louis were gone, and Bacon was alone.</p>
<p>"I have some money."</p>
<p>Everyone turned to look at Danny after that announcement. He shrugged, although his cheeks grew slightly pink. "I mean, not a million bucks or anything, but deployment bonuses add up and I've never really spent much. Figured that I should save it for a rainy day."</p>
<p>"Um, shouldn't you talk to Kara about it before offering money to people?" Carlton responded.</p>
<p>Danny shrugged. "She won't care. We talked about buying a house but it doesn't make sense to do that until we know where I'll be stationed long-term. Besides, not like we're going to lose money. Can you imagine Bacon's place not being a raging success?" Danny waved a hand around them. "I mean, look at the competition. Hell, giving it to Bacon is probably safer than a bank right now."</p>
<p>"I've got some savings too," Javier said, clearly mulling over Danny's words. "I want to keep a bit of cash available for Maria and the boys, but Green has a point. I trust Bacon way more than I trust any bank."</p>
<p>"I'm in," Carlton added. "Be nice to own a piece of something. Miller?"</p>
<p>Eric gulped. "Well, sure, I guess. But I don't have much. Just my back pay."</p>
<p>"Bacon's doing the work so he should own the majority of the restaurant. We'd just be silent investors." Danny grabbed a napkin and held out a hand for a pen, which Carlton supplied. "You'll need what, Bacon, about a hundred grand to get something going?"</p>
<p>Everyone stared at Bacon. He swallowed, his chest tight. "Yeah, around there. Might be able to do it on seventy-five if I cut some corners. I have about fifty with..." he paused. "With the money from my family."</p>
<p>The money that he and Bert and Louis had saved over the past ten years, penny-pinching and taking on extra deployments for the tax-free cash. Their nest egg. The one that would allow them to live out their dream.</p>
<p>The account that Bacon was now the sole owner of.</p>
<p>There was a moment of silence. The guys all knew that his family was dead, of course, there being no such thing as a secret on a 200-person destroyer. His parents and both brothers perishing in the Nashville football stadium turned safe zone. The loss made worse because the stadium wasn't exposed until November - almost two months after the Nathan James' arrival in Baltimore and mere weeks before they made it to St. Louis. If the Ramseys hadn't bombed the laboratories responsible for distribution, every one of the fifty thousand people who died in that safe zone would probably still be alive.</p>
<p>Bacon looked at the men sitting with him, meeting each man's gaze, before asking bluntly. "Why would you give me your money?"</p>
<p>"To make money," Carlton replied.</p>
<p>Danny elbowed him. "Look Bacon, you have a gift. Not just for cooking, but for making people feel good while they eat. You should use it."</p>
<p>"Right now your food is about as close as most of us are coming to a home cooked meal," Javier added. "Everyone was pretty bummed to learn that you were transferred off the Nathan James. Knowing we're coming back to a restaurant would lift a lot of spirits."</p>
<p>"Besides, this is one of those cannot fail ideas. Look at how crowded this place is and we all agree that the food," Danny waved at the half-eaten bowls of jambalaya, "is mediocre. Imagine what it would look like if the food was good. And there was actually service," he added with a dark look towards the kitchens.</p>
<p>"I'd need help..." Bacon started, still struggling with the realization that they were <em>serious</em>. They were willing to trust him with thousands of their hard-earned dollars. Because they believed in his ability to create something. Because they believed in <em>him</em>.</p>
<p>
  <em>It was a heady feeling.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>As well as slightly terrifying.</em>
</p>
<p>"Maria used to hostess at an upscale place in New Orleans," Javier mulled. "I can't promise you anything until I talk to her, but I bet she would be willing to help. Owning a piece of the place would be a big motivator. Besides, working afternoons/nights is a better schedule for the boys. That lets her do their schoolwork and spend time together during the day."</p>
<p>"My mom is looking for work," Rick piped up. "She managed a diner for years."</p>
<p>Danny took another spoonful of jambalaya. "Kara's mom might be able to help with licensing or whatever. Debbie's been working with Vice President Howard to set up a Chamber of Commerce and promote the economy here. I'll tell her to give you a call."</p>
<p>"Tex is going to be pissed that he skipped lunch," Carlton said. "Maybe we offer to cut him in if he helps Bacon source some decent priced food supplies."</p>
<p>Having worked out the details to their satisfaction, Danny turned to Bacon. "So what do you think, Bacon? You interested in running your own place? It would probably mean leaving the Navy, at least for a while."</p>
<p>As he looked around the table, Bacon felt his smile grow until he was grinning ear-to-eat. Because this wasn't about the money, not really. This was about so much more. Bacon's parents and brothers might be gone, and his dream of working with his brothers would never be. But that didn't mean he was alone. He still had a family. One forged through pain and horror and loss, but also trust and camaraderie and hope.</p>
<p>Bacon stuck out his hand, shaking each of theirs in turn. "I even have the perfect name. The Hangout."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Francisco "Doc" Rios</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Character: Francisco "Doc" Rios</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Setting: Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, shortly after season 2.</em>
</p>
<p>x</p>
<p>"These people are sick, Rios," Kara argued. Waving her hand at the sea of humanity in the field around them, separated only by the temporary barrier that Carlton and Danny had built upon their arrival. "You can't possibly handle this by yourself."</p>
<p>Cisco shook his head, unswayed by either her argument or the fact that she was right. "You're not helping. Not until I confirm with Commander Slattery that your booster is up to date <em>and</em> that exposure to whooping cough isn't considered a complication for pregnancy."</p>
<p>"Please listen to him, Kara. You getting sick won't do anything to help the Doc either," Danny interjected, earning himself a black look from his wife, one that Cisco suspected would lead to a heated conversation once they were alone. "Burk agreed to stay here with Rios while we head out."</p>
<p>Cisco would have been amused over the byplay if he wasn't about to deliver more bad news. "Actually, Green, nobody is going anywhere until we hear back from the XO. Whooping cough is highly contagious and we could easily spread it."</p>
<p>Danny stared at Cisco, his jaw clenched. But when he spoke, his voice was calm. "You're telling me that I have two teams grounded in Oklahoma City, possibly for days, while the contagious period for the vaccine is running?"</p>
<p>"Well," Cisco hesitated. "Yes."</p>
<p>Nobody said the word that they were all thinking.</p>
<p><em>Fuck</em>.</p>
<p>The two convoys were supposed to split in Tulsa, with Green's team heading northwest to Dodge City, near where Kara grew up. She had joined the team over Danny's protest, hoping to find some extended members of her family, perhaps look for some friends. Cisco was assigned to Burk's team, which planned to stop at Oklahoma City and then make a detour south to Wichita Falls, Texas where Cisco's grandmother lived. But, from the moment they left St. Louis, everything went wrong.</p>
<p>Actually, the problems started before they even left. Apparently the XO's briefing the night before, in which he detailed the conditions they would be facing on the road, had been a little too realistic and half of their civilian volunteers - the people who were still contagious - failed to show up at the departure point. Without enough volunteers, the teams were more dependent on using actual shots. Which was a slower, more medical-personnel intensive process. Initially they hoped to pick up more volunteers in Tulsa, but the situation there was fairly grim. Most people who were capable of travel had already gone to St. Louis, and the people who remained were either infirm or caring for those who were. Neither being good options for a road-trip.</p>
<p>After considering their options, Danny and Carlton determined that the time saved by splitting the convoy would be neutralized by the time necessary to distribute the shots. Instead, they made the decision to stick together, planning to loop through Oklahoma City and Wichita Falls, before heading back north to Kansas. Unspoken was the fact that, if either Cisco or Kara found surviving family, one team would then be available to bring them back to St. Louis while the other team pressed on.</p>
<p>What nobody had considered was that Oklahoma City had a lot of sick people. Not virus-sick, thankfully. But whooping cough had broken out and apparently spread like wildfire. Cisco made his way towards Doctor Renault, the man who had clued Rios in on the actual reason for all the coughing happening here at Will Rogers Park.</p>
<p>Renault looked up, his exhaustion evident in the dark shadows under his eyes and the deep lines on his tanned face. One of the few remaining doctors here in Oklahoma City, he had been working for days treating hundreds of sick children with little usable equipment and no antibiotics. The situation made more serious by the lack of clean water and food restrictions. "Were you able to reach St. Louis?"</p>
<p>Rios nodded. "They'll send a helo with whatever supplies then can find, as well as a few generators and some fuel to get the hospital running. The Captain thinks they can get at least some antibiotics for the kids."</p>
<p>"And your lieutenant?" Renault asked, having been the one to raise concerns about Kara's presence after noticing her condition. Unfortunately, although Renault had over forty years of experience, he was an oncologist with minimal knowledge on obstetrics. Without more information about the actual risk, Cisco had seen no alternative to isolating Kara as a precaution.</p>
<p>"We're trying to get the records," Cisco replied. Unfortunately, finding any sort of medical information these days was easier said than done. Although Val Raymond claimed that she would have an answer within the hour and, for once, Rios didn't care whether that involved blatantly violating HIPAA. "Now, where do you need help?"</p>
<p>They worked in silence. While Cisco coordinated the vaccination front and spread of the cure, Renault swiftly triaged patients, separating them into groups of those who appeared healthy, those with whooping cough, and those who required further evaluation. Green and Burk had located surgical masks for the crew and Doctor Renault from somewhere and were now helping some of the sicker patients to cots that they must have located at an adjacent hotel. Not for the first time, Cisco wished that he had more training, or even more time to shadow someone like Renault. As a Navy medic, Ciscos' training focused heavily on the minor inconveniences faced by a relatively healthy population in their twenties and thirties. Headaches, burns, small cuts, allergic reactions. For anything more serious, the plan was always to stabilize and then evacuate the patient to the nearest base. But with the world tipped upside down, Cisco found himself faced more and more frequently with situations that were far outside his expertise. Times when he had to both diagnose and treat patients with far more severe injuries or illness. And while a broken bone might be obvious, many other things were not. Things like whooping cough. Which Cisco never would have recognized without Renault's warning, potentially spreading the disease far and wide, assuming the coughing was associated with the virus or a reflection of the generally poor condition in which these people were living.</p>
<p>During a slight pause in the chaos, the two men took a break. Sipping from his water bottle, Renault asked. "Who are you looking for?"</p>
<p>"What?" Rios gave the man a sharp look. He seemed sincere, and had been nothing but helpful since his arrival, but that same description could have applied to Pete Norris right up until the moment when he shoved a gun in Cisco's face.</p>
<p>Renault tipped his head, appearing puzzled. He waved towards Carlton. "Your man over there said that you were here spreading the cure and looking for family. Who are you looking for?"</p>
<p>"Oh." Cisco considered the question for a moment before deciding that there was little harm in telling Renault the truth. "My grandmother. She raised me after my mother overdosed. She started getting sick when I was in high school. Alzheimer's. I was going to stay here, help take care of her but she insisted that I needed to live my own life. Even found herself a spot in an assisted care facility while I was in officer candidate school. I kept planning to move her to Norfolk, where I'm stationed, but the doctors thought that she would be more comfortable in a familiar environment."</p>
<p>Renault nodded. "Many nursing homes closed their doors early on, hoping to limit exposure to their patients. It's possible that your grandmother survived."</p>
<p>Cisco felt a spark of hope, once quickly doused as he recalled the state of affairs in Norfolk and St. Louis. Closing the doors sounded good until you ran out of food and had no choice but to open them again. "Maybe."</p>
<p>"It must be hard not knowing whether she's alive," Renault offered.</p>
<p>"It is." Rios paused, the next words ones that he hadn't confessed to anyone. Somehow finding it easier to speak to this stranger than his own crewmates. "We were on a four-month cruise to the Arctic. Radio-silent. I knew before I left that she might die before we got back. I made the choice to go anyway."</p>
<p>Renault raised an eyebrow. "Probably the only reason you survived."</p>
<p>"Yes," Cisco acknowledged.</p>
<p>"If she had been given the choice, she would have wanted you to live," Renault said after a short pause, his gaze distant. Perhaps Renault also found it easier to talk to a stranger, because he continued. "I lost my family. My wife, both sons, my daughter-in-law and grandson. I would have traded places with any of them. No hesitation."</p>
<p>"I'm sorry." The words weren't enough, but there was nothing else to say.</p>
<p>Renault smiled at Cisco, although the gesture didn't reach his eyes. "I don't need to understand the Lord's plans. I just hope that I can accomplish whatever it is he left me here to do."</p>
<p>"Without you, I wouldn't have known these people had whooping cough or how to help them," Cisco pointed out.</p>
<p>Again, Renault smiled sadly. "Today, we won. But tomorrow you will be gone and there is only so much one old man can do. Sometimes it feels like a drop in the bucket." He sighed. "You ready to get back to it?"</p>
<p>Another thirty minutes passed before Cisco heard the distant thump of an approaching helicopter, followed by Danny's voice. "Good news Doc! Helo is inbound with generators, a water filtration system, MREs, and whatever antibiotics that Milowsky could find on short notice. Plan is to unload and then we are out of here."</p>
<p>Cisco turned to see Green, followed closely by Kara who was, at least, wearing a surgical mask. He frowned but, before he could object, she explained. "Val confirmed that my booster is up-to-date. The mask is just an additional safeguard."</p>
<p>"In fact, we're all clear," Danny continued. "Everyone except Burk, who apparently needed a booster three months ago. Since he's stuck here, the teams will switch. Burk's team will stay here with Kara while we take you down to Texas."</p>
<p>"I can't leave," Cisco began, gazing at the crowd around them, and then at the growing number of cots. "First I need to take care of the people here..."</p>
<p>But Kara cut him off. "I'll stay and help. You go with Danny, Cisco. Find your grandma."</p>
<p>Cisco gazed between them, torn over what to do. Knowing how much Danny and Kara <em>weren't</em> saying. Suspecting that Kara wasn't as calm about the possibility of exposing herself to whooping cough as she seemed. Guessing that Danny must be chafing at the thought of leaving his pregnant wife here in Oklahoma City. Recognizing that a single team would struggle to handle a crowd of this size. Appreciating that they were making those compromises so that he could look for his grandmother.</p>
<p>A woman who might have been dead before the virus even hit.</p>
<p>He knew that. And yet, when push came to shove, Cisco needed to be certain. To know for sure that she wasn't out there, somewhere, alone and confused. A confirmation - even one of death - would be better than that lingering uncertainty. That fear.</p>
<p>As though sensing Cisco's indecision, Renault spoke. "You've already done the best thing possible for these people by bringing us the cure, Lieutenant Rios. Once the antibiotics arrive, I'm sure that Lieutenant Green can assist me in distributing them while Lieutenant Burk's team gets the generators running. And I'll be very mindful of Lieutenant Green's condition and make sure she takes appropriate meal and rest breaks."</p>
<p>Cisco blinked at the idea of <em>anyone</em> telling Kara when to eat or rest, his eyes going to Green, who wore a similar bemused expression. Then the rest of Renault's statement sunk in. He frowned. "Does Carlton know how to get a generator..."</p>
<p>Danny interrupted. "O'Connor is coming in with the helo."</p>
<p>Cisco could think of no additional protests. Which is why, three hours later, he found himself approaching a city he once knew like the back of his hand. Listening to Danny curse at every bump and Tex and Wolf trade stories about the ladies they loved and lost while Miller's ears got redder and redder. As they pulled into the city, Cisco was most surprised by the silence. No buzzing of lights or rumbling of cars. Instead, the only sound he heard when Green pulled the Humvee up to city hall was the squawk of the birds sitting on a telephone wire.</p>
<p>A quick search of the building revealed nobody - alive or dead - and the group moved on to the high school, having discovered that schools often doubled as safe zones. But the school, like city hall, was empty. By the time they hit the library, a local amusement park, and the botanical gardens, finding each one empty, Cisco knew the score. Knew that the likelihood of finding the answers he sought were nil and yet, when they finally pulled up in front of the care facility where his grandmother lived, he couldn't help the disappointment that flooded him as he saw that it, like everything else in Wichita Falls, bore no signs of life.</p>
<p>As they piled out of the Humvee, Tex grabbed Cisco's arm. "You wait here while we look."</p>
<p>But Cisco couldn't stop. Shaking off Tex's hand. Striding towards the oh-so-familiar-and-yet-so-different entrance to a building he had entered hundreds of times. Only to be stopped by the discovery that it was padlocked from the inside. After determining that the fire door was similarly barricaded, Danny and Wolf returned to the front. Green glanced at Cisco for a moment, as though he were weighing something, before directing. "Break it down."</p>
<p>Five minutes later they were inside and Cisco almost wished that he had listened to Tex. The first body was at the reception desk. Head pulverized by the gunshot that killed her. The dry desert air preserving her body almost perfectly. Cisco paused as he realized that this was the head nurse. A woman he had spoken to dozens of times over the years, laughing as she filled him in on Abuela's latest matchmaking efforts or gently patting his hand as she informed him about a decline in his grandmother's condition. Swallowing, Cisco moved towards the patient rooms, trying to focus on the door four down to the left. But unable to stop himself from glancing into the rooms that he passed, seeing each bed covered by a sheet, no effort to disguise the lumps underneath.</p>
<p>Lumps that Cisco had no doubt were people.</p>
<p>Cisco stopped at the doorway to his grandmother's room, taking a moment to gaze around the familiar space. Pictures lined the wall. Of Cisco. Of his mother. Of Abuela and her husband, the grandfather that Cisco never met. He stepped into the room, avoiding the bed that sat in the center. Moving towards the table where Abuela used to drink her coffee and read the newspaper before her condition worsened. Touching the reading glasses that sat next to the rocking chair that she brought with her to the facility years before. Opening the small closet to gaze at the bright pink and red muumuus that she favored. The minutes passed as he examined every nook and cranny of the room - except for one. Cisco turned, steeling himself as he moved towards the bed and folded down the sheet.</p>
<p>In death she looked peaceful. Dressed in her favorite coral nightgown and clutching her rosary. Her silvery hair curling over her shoulders. Cisco reached down to touch her, only to pull back. Unwilling to taint his memories of a woman filled with strength and warmth by touching her corpse.</p>
<p>Replacing the sheet, Cisco again covered his grandmother's face. He turned, walking out of the building. Taking nothing from this room. This tomb. Mere minutes passed before the other men appeared and Cisco vaguely wondered where they had been doing during the time he was inside.</p>
<p>Cisco looked at Danny. "Murder-suicide."</p>
<p>Danny nodded. "Seems like there was an evacuation order. The nurse agreed to stay behind with the patients who couldn't be moved. She was supposed to get supplies delivered weekly. Eventually she ran out of food and medicine." At Cisco's quizzical look, Danny added. "There was a note."</p>
<p>Cisco tried to imagine being left behind to care for a dozen patients with severe dementia. Locking the doors to prevent them from wandering. Struggling to keep them fed and clothed and taking their medication on schedule. Running yourself ragged for weeks, only to realize that the supply runs had stopped. That there was no more food, no more medicine, and no way to call for help. Making the best choice you could. The one that would result in the least amount of suffering. Only to be so horrified by what you had done that you ended your own life.</p>
<p>Cisco recalled Renault's words from earlier.</p>
<p>
  <em>If she had been given the choice, she would have wanted you to live.</em>
</p>
<p>But Abuela was too sick, her dementia too advanced, to have understood what was happening. To have comprehended, never mind made, such a choice. And, oddly, that thought comforted Cisco. The knowledge that his grandmother died in peace. Or, at least, as much peace as possible. Never knowing what was going on in the world. So very different from what Renault went through, watching his family die.</p>
<p>Cisco found himself replaying the conversation with Renault. His words rolling through Cisco's brain on repeat.</p>
<p>
  <em>I just hope that I can accomplish whatever it is he left me here to do.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>There is only so much one old man can do.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Sometimes it feels like a drop in the bucket.</em>
</p>
<p>Cisco wouldn't pretend to understand why one person lived and another died. And he certainly couldn't say whether there was some grand plan behind the spread of a virus that killed billions. But he could think of one way that Renault could make a difference. Cisco looked at Danny. "We need to get back to Oklahoma City. I'll switch places with Kara and you can head north."</p>
<p>"There's no rush," Danny replied. "We checked and there's a cemetery down the street. We could bury..."</p>
<p>"No." Cisco cut him off, drawing the gaze of every man on the team. Their surprise and concern evident. And he scrambled to explain. "Someday I will return and give her a proper burial. But for now, I need to get back to Oklahoma City and talk to Doctor Renault." When that drew only blank looks, Cisco pressed on. "I want him to come back to St. Louis with us. To start a medical training program, or at least let me observe him as he works. There are so few doctors left and so much that I need to learn." He paused again, taking another deep breath. "I need every minute that I can get."</p>
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